House of the Angels

The day after the St John’s Night ceremonies, everyone was allowed to sleep as late as they wanted. Angel Manor’s residents had awoken to the hottest summer day they had ever experienced. Every fan in the house was going to try and get cool air inside while a few complained that the refrigerator was out of ice cubes. Everyone seemed moodier and more irritable than ever as shouts of “shut the damn windows” and “someone turn off the sun for an hour” echoed through the halls.

“Man I wish somebody would just dump water on the sun already!”

“Oh quit your bellyaching Dan.” Anne told the biggest of the boys as she trapesed down the hall towards Sybilla’s study.

“I ain’t bellyaching.” Dan shot back.

Anne entered Sybilla’s study, fanning herself and red in the face from the blasted summer heat. What in the damn hell has Irene done with my good palmetto fan??.....she asked herself.

“You want an iced tea?” Sybilla asked.

“I’d like to know what Irene did with my good palmetto fan.” Anne answered.

“She put it back in your drawer.” Sybilla replied, perching herself upon her great seat. “Must’ve figured you’d go berserk if she didn’t put it back.”

Anne rolled her eyes and handed Sybilla the newspaper for that morning. “The hell is this?” Sybilla questioned.

“You read it and then tell me.” Anne replied icily as she poured herself a glass of fresh iced tea.

Sybilla read the article on the very front page. Unnamed beast tears up St. Augustine Street…..residents of the bayou in a panic….was displayed in huge black lettering across the top. The more Sybilla read the article, the more she began to suspect who it was that had unleashed such a terrible animal. But what really stirred Sybilla’s temper were scathing statements from people with minds as narrow as the alleyways.

“Do they honestly think I give a shit about what they put in these papers?” Sybilla questioned testily.

“It’s not the papers I was talking about Sybilla.” Anne answered. “It’s the scum in Mason Noir causing trouble. Just thought you’d want to see proof in case someone came and said something.”

So Sybilla wasn’t the only one who suspected Sally. At least she could live with that. “Ya’ll think so too huh?”

“Of course I do.” Anne told her. “There’s no way in hell that we shouldn’t. They’re out to literally raise hell and we’re the ones who always have to put a stop to it.”

“What do you think our ancestors have been doing since they came here Annie?” Sybilla questioned, her temper dying down into a serene patience. “Whenever something roots its way outta the ground we always have to plant it right back in. It’s a shame she couldn’t stay there where she belonged.”

“But now we have an opportunity to be better prepared.” Anne said.

“And it’s only a matter of time before she strikes again.” Sybilla added.

Anne turned her longing gaze towards the window, peering out to the garden below. The sweltering heat had left a foggy haze of humidity looming over the plants and along the path that led to the grove where Rachel’s Well stood.

“Ya’ll miss Louis don’t you?” Sybilla asked her.

“Not a day that goes by when I don’t.” Anne sighed. “My poor Eugene hardly knew him.”

Sybilla was no stranger to death. Anne’s husband had been the first of seven deaths Angel Manor had experienced within such a short amount of time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“It won’t happen again Annie.” Sybilla assured her friend. “Ain’t nobody dyin here ever again.”